


Frayed Flesh

by percyval



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Basically just don't be a Kingsman kids., Depression, I HATE MYSELF I BUTCHERED tHE CHARACTERS, I do not think I based this off of Before I Go to Sleep but eh., M/M, Nightmare Fuel, Non-Consensual, Psychological Horror, Violence, allusion to drug use, basically i'm going to cry for the next ten hours bc i wrote this, i'm awful., of eggsy torture, over 4000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyval/pseuds/percyval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To defy the Secret Service is to give up ones own life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frayed Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count for Dark Kingsman Block Party? Because it probably does.
> 
> This is my first attempt at horror, and I hope that it isn't totally awful. Well, awful in the "You have emotionally destroyed me" way, that would be good.

The sterile, washed-out lights hang high over Eggsy's head as the team of nurses rush him into the emergency surgery room. He's been strapped down, and he can only look up. Eggsy can't let himself close his eyes. He has to recall every detail of his attack.

His blood spills from his abdomen, his crotch, his mouth and open wounds on his arms, legs, and face. The crimson stains adorn the crisp, white sheets placed over him when he was strapped to the gurney. Eggsy's eyes are blurring with tears, a blood vessel may have popped during the attack, but he can't tell. He can't even distinguish the faces looming over his own.

Eggsy blinks, and he lets out one ugly, hoarse sobbing noise before he finally starts playing over the events in his mind. He was crying, screaming, begging for it to stop. And his torturer kept going, like this was his job.

And likely, it was.

He closes his eyes, if only for a moment, to think over every single solitary moment of his attack.

But it lasted hours. Hours and hours of pain, of anguish, and short breaks of letting it settle into him. In the moment, it felt like years, like a continuous process that would never end.

As they move Eggsy from the gurney to a surgical table, they stab into his arm with a needle. Anesthetic that he had craved only an hour earlier, and now he didn't want it tainting his blood, what little he probably had in his system now. Eggsy watches them hook him up to an IV, and he hopes that he can remember what happened when he wakes up.

In his head, he counts down from ten, a bit too late, but he's got to take his mind off his current state.

_Ten. . ._

_Nine. . ._

_Eight. . ._

A voice rings in his ears.

 _I never_ wanted _to hurt you,_ it beckons to him. He doesn't remember it. He's already forgetting.

_Four. . ._

_Three. . ._

_Two. . ._

* * *

The room is quiet.

In the kitchen. Harry's kitchen.

Eggsy's been living in Harry's house since he died. He's been living there alone for a few weeks, but he's rarely ever been home for more than a night or two. Dealing with Dean, spending nights at home with Daisy and Michelle, keeping them safe while he doesn't have anything left.

He's been worn ragged, and he sits down at the counter, holding a mug full of Harry's favorite tea in his cupped hands. Eggsy's eyes are dull--lack of sleep and overall fatigue from daily events.

When he's left with his own thoughts, they turn dark. _Especially_ when thinking about Harry.

His thoughts on the matter aren't even refined to proper feelings yet, ones he can rationally express to anyone else. Just flares of anger towards Valentine, fading out into a slump of unrelenting depression. Another father figure. Lost.

He goes somewhat cold in his core, and his mind isn't racing anymore. His train of thought has been stopped dead in its tracks.

Eggsy looks towards the doors, the stairwell, where the foyer leads off into the bathroom. All reminding him of that horrific altercation before Harry left for Kentucky.

The gunshot, the bullet shattering Harry's glasses, cutting off the signal, blood spattering onto the other lens before he collapsed onto the asphalt. To be left there. Probably bleeding out before he finally died.

He stops himself from crying, right there, and sips from his teacup. It's weak, but he doesn't care. He keeps drinking it, and exhales as he sets the ceramic mug down. Every face flashes in his eyes when he blinks. Valentine, in particular. The face he made when turning away, eyes closed and facing the ground. His flinch when he shot Harry.

Rage.

It burns in Eggsy's blood, and he can't seem to make it stop. Harry is gone. He needs to accept that his mentor is gone, dead, at the hand of an environmental whack job.

And yet _dead_ doesn't feel right.

Harry isn't dead. Harry is gone. But Eggsy feels as if he's going to come back, safe and sound, ready to apologize for his outburst about the dog test and congratulate him for stopping V-Day. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, still in disarray from sleeping heavily the previous night.

The unease thinking about Harry doesn't stop. No matter how long it's been, he still remembers that pain he felt that day. He couldn't mourn. He had to save the world.

But now he can think over the events of that day. And he can let himself react as terribly as he needs to, just to make it stop hurting him everyday he doesn't make him stop thinking about it. Eggsy pushes the tea cup away from him, making a sharp skidding noise as it rushes away from his hand.

A sharp inhale doesn't startle Eggsy.

He believes it to be his own.

A hand wraps itself around Eggsy's mouth, and a rag is pressed into his nose.

He whimpers as his eyes roll back into his head, and his eyelids shut. His limp body falls into the embrace of whoever possesses the hand. The hand that chloroformed him.

Eggsy doesn't fight, and suddenly he's not conscious. He's lying weak in the arms of a figure dressed in black, silently dragging him into the bedroom.

When the figure is certain Eggsy is out of it, he pulls up his mask, to look over the man. He can't bear to do what he has to do now. But these are the rules. He vowed to do this when he became a knight.

He has to kill this recruit. It's only the rules. Set in place by Chester King, _that prick_. He feels his chest swell, and he removes the backpack from his shoulders, rifling through the sharp, deadly objects. Knives, blades, guns, poison, blunt and sharp and more than enough to torture Eggsy to death. Something he doesn't want to do. He can't imagine that he has to go through this.

First it was just some stupid joke to the rest of the knights, but that was when Chester was killing the recruits who'd failed himself. He couldn't let himself think that a recruit could go rogue, turn to the side of their enemies, and give away the weaknesses of the Secret Service.

 _To defy the Secret Service is to give up ones own life_ , the mantra. The new mantra.

He never wanted to do this. Unfortunately, Chester thought of _that_ , too. His spy glasses are sitting on the bridge of his nose, left lens darkened. Merlin watching against his own will, to make sure the job is done. To make sure that he doesn't flake out, and let Eggsy survive, only brutally beaten and injured.

However, he can't think of killing the boy. It's not what he took to thinking a Kingsman was.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice weak. How could he let himself do this to Eggsy? "I never _wanted_ to hurt you," he trails off, eyes looking over to the backpack slumped against the foot of the bed.

The needle. He needed to inject himself.

A combination of adrenaline and any other confusing concoction that would make him violent enough to harm his recruit. Never has he had to kill a recruit.

He ties the belt, doubling as one to strangle, beat, and hang with, around his upper arm, and injects the faint blue liquid into his veins. This isn't a good high.

Immediately, he looks over towards his recruit. Flopped over the bed, unknowing of what will happen to him. A backpack full of weapons. His urge to kill has risen in his blood. Like in Kentucky. But this time, he had full control. And he chose to harm.

Harry.

What happened to Harry Hart when he injected the hormones? Did he camp out in the back of this violent husk's mind, or did he sit and stare in horror as he watched his hands do something he could never imagine them doing?

His hands move down to Eggsy's trousers, pyjamas, and he slowly removes them, at first. There's still a bit of Harry in there. And it has to leave.

Then he rips off Eggsy's shirt. It's taking its affect.

There's no control anymore.

He looks over Eggsy's lifeless body with a hunger brewing within him. Of course, his desire is to wreck it before he wakes up. Wreck it so the job will be easier.

This Harry, this other side, can't control himself. There's no sense of restraint, as he takes the belt, along with a rope, and ties down Eggsy's legs to the bed posts on either side. He can't even recognize the room he once slept in, comfortably.

But he recognizes this slack, unmoving look on Eggsy's face.

His hot, whisky-tinted eyes inspect every aspect of his prey. Like a predator, that's what he is.

He places one hand over both of Eggsy's wrists, holding them both up over his head. It burns, not harming him. Just watching him lie there.

The chloroform wasn't even a high concentration.

Harry rests a hand on Eggsy's cheek, the contact hurts. He strikes the skin, a satisfying noise echoing in the room.

Eggsy flinches, only slightly. His eyelids tightened.

Harry strikes him again. A small noise erupts from his closed lips, and his head slowly turns to the left. He can't let Eggsy wake up on his own accord.

He hits, continuously, trying to wake him up. Eggsy needs to be awake to feel this pain. No matter how much Harry will hate himself once he's beaten, probably even torn apart, the boy, effectively killing him.

Harry's eyes brim with the sparsest tears, and he can't feel his face twist up as he lowers his own trousers. Eggsy won't be able to move when he wakes up. Not as long as Harry is there.

* * *

As Eggsy's eyes open, a crashing pain hits him. He can't see what is hurting him. All he can see is a blurred face, and what he thinks is brown hair. His eyes slowly clear up, and his vision soon becomes crisp and clear.

Brown hair falls into the face of the man. He's let go of Eggsy's hands, and he's grabbing his thrown-apart thighs. His boxers hang around his ankles, and Eggsy can only moan and whine.

Just what he does.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asks, fierce as he can manage, drunkenly and barely audible.

The man says nothing.

He moves, and forces himself into Eggsy.

He shrieks out, initially, closing his eyes as his body tenses up. Given he could move, he'd kick this man, he'd punch him, beat him up until he can't see and is crumpled up on the floor. But Eggsy is left to watch the man pull out, an excruciating pain shooting up into his head, pulling at nerves all over his body. He pushes back in, and he definitely can tell that he's been torn.

Eggsy can see it. Blood starting to seep onto the man, starting to soak into the bed sheets.

He trembles, his breaths are hard and rough. The man is breathing the same way, and his nails dig into Eggsy's thighs.

"Fucking stop it, you cunt!" He screams, and he realizes that's all he can do. Eggsy can only scream, and cry. But he doubts anyone can hear him.

Until he recognizes the Kingsman specs on his attacker's nose.

He feels betrayed, he feels hurt. Another agent, coming here to rape and kill him.

"Bruv, who the fuck are you?!" He asks again, loose locks of hair bouncing as he gets the rhythm.

He can't get an answer.

"Merlin, help me!" He tries to get his face into the view of the glasses. "It's Eggsy! Save me!" His voice is beginning to go hoarse and ragged.

The man starts thrusting harder. Eggsy lets tears trace down his reddening cheeks. His eyes are red.

He can't stand seeing his blood splattering the man's shirt, his dick.

Eggsy closes his eyes, and the man, crouched over on his knees, fucks him harder.

His mind tries to distract him, reminding him of his mentor, his mum, his little sister, JB. Anything good. Even Ryan and Jamal, thinking of them is better than realizing and acknowledging he's being raped by a Kingsman agent. He groans, his tears burn hot in his closed eyes, escaping out the corners.

The man lets out a low moan, and Eggsy assumes he's going to be finished. He prays he's going to finish.

Every second seems to drag by. He's unable to handle this. It's like he's being put through pure Hell and he needs to make it end.

His limbs are starting to buzz, like they'd fallen asleep.

And his prediction may have been right; the man is beginning to speed up, his last lap before he climaxes. Eggsy whimpers as the man thrusts deeper into him, deep enough to make his eyes shoot wide open from their closed state. He represses a screech, and whines to himself as he is fucked harder, and harder.

But, this isn't even the end.

He groans low as he cums, and Eggsy breathes hard, chest rising and falling uncomfortably as the man removes himself from Eggsy. He gets off of the bed, undoing Eggsy's restraints before he pulls back on his trousers. The blood all over himself is ignored. It's going to be replaced by more, and he knows it.

The man comes back with lengths of rope, and cuts them up into five separate pieces. Eggsy is beginning to be able to writhe in pain, but he can't manage it. He, instead, tries to identify his attack while the static-like numbness fades.

And he sees the man's face as he moves to tie up Eggsy's arms.

_Harry._

Warm, brown eyes, gone cold and emotionless as he ties up his recruit.

Eggsy feels his chest clench up. His eyes threaten to cry harder than they had before. His voice shakes, and falters, he can't manage to think that he is being tortured by his mentor, someone he trusted. Someone he thought was dead.

He locks his gaze with Harry's.

"Why are you doing this? What test is this?" Eggsy whimpers. He can't handle what insane mix of emotions he is feeling right now.

Harry says nothing, again. He sets the backpack up on the bed, and sifts through it.

First he takes out a knife, one that looks like it could skin an animal. Then, a heavy lead pipe. A belt.

The belt goes into Eggsy's mouth, he ties the belt around the back of his head and secures it. Eggsy can barely breathe.

Harry's eyes flash a warmth, a sign of "I'm still here" before they freeze again. Staring daggers into Eggsy, hurting more than he thought the weapons could. 

Eggsy knows no one can save him, he's never going to survive.

_I'm going to die, and Harry Hart is going to be the one to kill me._

The thought burns in his mind, and he watches the man he once adored go in to cut him.

Initially, the moment the blade sinks into Eggsy's flesh, he feels nothing. Until the agony strikes him like a cold blow to his gut, and he bites down on the rough faux-leather of the belt. His voice comes bubbling up gravelly, and he can't feel himself twist his toes as his mouth is roughly carved open, halfway to the cheekbone. The sound of the muscle tearing, right into his ear, makes him dizzy. He wants to lean over the bed and puke, then collapse and just rest.

Harry starts slicing wherever he feels like it. One across his chest, one down his abdomen, almost cutting it open, and then a stab right into his thigh. So deep, the blade stands up when he removes his hand.

Every single bite of the blade sends Eggsy wailing and drowning in discomfort. How will Michelle and Daisy find out Eggsy died? Will they hear about it from Merlin, or Harry, or will they stumble in to find him in the process of, or already having been, killed?

He can't let himself die. But he can't find a way to attack Harry and get him off, long enough to escape.

His mind starts failing him the longer he stays injured. Eggsy's arm shakes, and he starts realizing he's able to move his limbs. Not well, but he can at least knee Harry.

He sends his knee straight up to Harry's chest, but it gets stopped halfway. His ankle snaps underneath the pressure and tight grab of the rope. He swears, and he cries out as he sees the bone threatening to poke out of his skin.

Harry doesn't react. He, instead, takes the pipe.

Eggsy is thankful he stopped with the knife, and he feels the belt settle in between the two flaps of skin that were once his cheek. He sobs, and starts screaming at Harry as he readies the pipe to strike Eggsy's leg.

He nudges his knee at Harry, and he growls.

Harry strikes Eggsy in the head with the pipe. He cries, wailing and attempting to attack Harry.

"LET ME GO," his voice comes out muffled.

Harry hits him again, harder, almost mimicking the found that his ankle made when it snapped. Eggsy's nose cracks underneath the cold steel, and he tries to send his fists forward, to punch Harry and murder him himself.

"FUCK YOU, YOU CRAZY BASTARD!"

He can't defend himself. Even if he can move, it's no use. He can't break the ropes, he can only feel them burn his wrists and ankles while he tries to beat his attacker.

Harry hits Eggsy in the ribs, his knees, then into his hip.

Each blow makes Eggsy howl, he can't stop himself from sniveling and weeping into the belt. He swears to himself as Harry lines up to hit him in the crotch.

"Don't do it, mate," his voice is finally worn, dying out, and he can't breathe correctly anymore.

The pipe connects with his cock.

He throws himself forward, and he is stopped by the ropes. Eggsy shrieks, shrill and vibrating.

The room is slowly becoming fainter around the two. It must have only been thirty minutes since Harry started hurting him. Eggsy stares up at Harry, blood and tears mixing as it trickles down his jaw and onto his neck. Slowly, it seems that his harsh streak might be wearing off. But that's being optimistic. He knows it's not going to be over, not until he's barely able to breathe, dying on Harry's bed while he watches. Taking another life, for no reason.

The pain is all melting together, and soon it's just a continuous throbbing all over his body. How could he be capable of this type of terrible torture? This isn't the Harry he knew. Not at all.

Eggsy lets himself fade away, closing his eyes and trying to block out the pain.

A mutter comes from Harry. A small "This isn't right."

He takes out a gun.

As he plans where to shoot Eggsy, as he plans to finish his job, and leave, he goes over to the window, and removes his glasses only a moment, turning off the signal.

"Eggsy, I can't believe I've done this. I'm so sorry."

Eggsy opens his eyes, and glances over at Harry's back. He feels no remorse. Harry comes back, taking the belt out of Eggsy's mouth as carefully as he can manage.

"Fuck you, you psycho."

"I never wanted to do this, Eggsy. It's a rule. I had to abide by it, but between you and me, I'm letting you live."

"I thought you didn't hurt nobody, never," he said. "Unless you're saving someone else."

Harry nods, and sits down beside the battered and bruised boy.

"This rule has been established since Chester became Arthur. He decided that to keep recruits from spilling details about Kingsman when they fail training, that their recruiters kill them. Originally it was a simple gunshot, and then it progressed to torture. He had Percival create a concentration of different hormones and chemicals that would make the gentlest of us violent and hostile. It's like what happened at the church. I am so sorry."

Eggsy knows that this has to be genuine, and he tries to sit up. Harry loosens the ropes, so he can sit comfortably.

"I didn't mean to do this, Eggsy."

"I thought you were dead, and you come back here, rape me, beat me up, and then give me all this bullshit to comprehend. I don't know what to say."

"I don't expect you to."

Harry stands up, and sets the gun back into the bag.

"It's awful this had to be the way we first saw each other again," his voice drips with remorse, and Eggsy wants to get up, stare up at him, into his eyes. The ones he'd come to know as friendly.

"Are you going to leave again, and actually fucking die?" He glares, and Harry completely unties him.

"I plan not to leave. Eggsy, I'm going to keep you under the radar. You're going to be safe, once the other Knights believe I killed you."

Eggsy's mind goes blank.

"I want to go home to me mum and sister," he says quietly, voice chilled.

Harry nods.

"You will be able to see them once I've taken you to the hospital. I need to wipe your memory, you can't remember that I did this to you." He removes his sleeve from his watch, and aims it at the boy.

He shoots the dart into Eggsy's neck before he can protest. Harry dresses Eggsy up in his clothes, and rushes out to his car, Eggsy slumped over his shoulder. In the later night, no one seemed to be able to hear his screams.

Harry puts his glasses back on, turning the signal back on. He's sure to linger on Eggsy, like he'd killed him and was taking him to be disposed of.

"I'll get back to you later, Merlin," he says as he starts hurriedly driving.

Merlin says nothing, turning off his connection to Harry's glasses.

Eggsy blinks, slowly, as he turns to see Harry.

"Harry. . .?"

He smiles at Eggsy, and he listens to him speak half-consciously about how he thought that Harry was dead, and how much he'd missed him.

"I thought about you every day. I really did miss you, so much. Please, never leave again."

As Harry checks him in, he promises to never leave the boy again.

* * *

Eggsy wakes up from surgery, looking over the man resting in the seat next to him.

"You're still here," he says, like he's shocked.

Harry's eyes lock on Eggsy's cheek, the ugly red and purple and blue. Frayed flesh.

He can't stand to see Eggsy like this, barely able to see, let alone stay awake.

"I didn't want to leave you."

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"No, I'm not needed at the tailor's today, today I'm going to stay with you."

Eggsy smiles gently, and then he winces in pain.

"What happened to me?"

Harry looks away. He knows he has to lie. He can't honestly say that he did this to Eggsy.

"You were attacked by Dean."

"Really?"

"Yes. I came by after he'd hurt you, incredibly bad timing. I brought you here. The doctors say that you will be fine once you start healing."

Eggsy looks down. His face is somber.

"I see. Thank you for bringing me here, and staying with me."

Harry can't forgive himself for lying like that. He can't forgive himself for anything he's done in the past hour, but now he's stuck with it. Until he tells the truth.

He has to tell Eggsy he did this, and that he is sorry, and give the explanation over again. But, at the same time, he doesn't want to.

Harry, at this point, could just keep the lie up, and tell Eggsy that he is living with Harry because his family didn't want to see him again. He can manipulate Eggsy in any possible way, to his every whim.

But that's not right.

He'll tell Eggsy what happened. When he's ready to hear it, when he's recovered and ready to go back home.

Eggsy smiles at Harry, eyes bright.

Harry will never see Eggsy again if he owns up to what he did to the boy. He's going to have to practice telling Eggsy what happened to him. Every unnecessary slap, and strike, and why he even decided he needed to rape Eggsy.

He leaves for a minute, to recoup in the hallway.

His face is buried into his hands, he breathes in a broken, uneasy way. _Now_ it's hitting him.

He can't do it.

He can't admit he did anything, at all.

And he can't believe he's going to keep up that lie.

Harry peaks in at Eggsy, seeing him resting, peacefully. No longer alarmed. No longer unhappy and in pain.

The façade can last a little while longer.


End file.
